


Ashes

by orphan_account



Series: The Thing He Hadn’t Done [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, M/M, Maria Reynolds/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler (mentioned) - Freeform, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There are moments where the words don't reach. There is suffering too terrible to name...
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Series: The Thing He Hadn’t Done [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815757
Comments: 18
Kudos: 43





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> **If you have not read "Yes." please go and read that before continuing.**

Eliza sees her best friend for the first time in days at Thomas’ funeral. The grayish light of the midmorning Saturday sun peeks through the stained glass windows scattered around the pews and behind the altar. She had thought giving him space and time to grieve would be more beneficial than her constant nagging. When she first sees him--actually  _ sees _ him--she does a double take and knows that she was _ wrong _ . 

She had seen him in the front of the room from behind, his hair in the same ponytail that it always was in and wearing a smart, black suit (one that he had favored more than others that he owned). However, when he stood up from his seat, she saw his slumped shoulders and colorless face, cheeks hollowed into his skull.

_ Was he even eating? _ Eliza thought, concerned for her friend’s health. He faced the crowd and it took a large effort to not cringe at his appearance. She heard a gasp come from her left where Angelica was sitting beside her and sees her sister’s mouth partially open in horror and sadness.

While the bags underneath his eyes weren’t unusual, the bright red of them was, looking as if he had just finished crying not long ago. The pallor of his skin was verging on the edge of death, colorless and too pale. 

Her heart breaks a little bit more when Alexander begins to speak. His voice is hoarse with the pure, unbridled sound of a million agonies. 

“Uhhh. Hello, my name is Alexander Hamilton and Thomas is--” his voice cracks, rising an octave above his normal range. He continues his speech, attempting to place humor into his words, but the jokes ultimately fall flat off his tongue despite the bits of polite and yet, saddened laughter that follow them.

His normal combative nature, wild and chaotic like a hurricane, has shriveled away into a gentle rainfall that is easily dismissed. While his words hold a certain kind of passion--a tender, loving sort--his disposition is different. Alexander can still demand the attention of an audience, but he seems to have shrunken into himself. He has made his presence smaller instead of taking up the entire room like he normally would, overshadowing his peers. Eliza’s brow furrows slightly as Alexander struggles through a speech with tears fighting to fall his cheeks. 

_ This is him improvising… He never wrote anything. He didn’t come here with the anticipation of saying anything… Oh Alexander, why do you torture yourself so? _ Eliza wonders, moved to tears as she listens to him talk about the man he was so clearly in love with.  _ Maybe it’s better than he does speak. He would never forgive himself if he said nothing. _

Eventually, his self-imposed torture ends and he walks to his seat. One of the Jefferson sisters turns around and says something to him. He shrugs in response and slumps into the pew, head hanging low. The service ends not too long after and she and her sisters leave the church with everyone else. Looking over her shoulder, Eliza finds Alexander being escorted by Lafayette to his car. 

—

Eliza watches from beside her sisters’ sides as Alexander walks with Lafayette up to the grave site. She listens, though not intently, to the words of the priest, watching Alexander instead. He wears a vacant expression, eyes unfocused on the ground or flowers on top of the casket. When the service ends and the casket is lowered into the ground, Eliza doesn’t think Alexander realizes that Lafayette has left his side and the small crowd of people dispersing.

She means to speak to him at the graveyard, but she never gets the chance. Alexander is occupying the attentions of Mr. Washington and his wife, Martha. She watches from a distance as he cries into his coat and can hear Washington tell Alexander to take his time, expressing that Alexander should take more time off before coming back to work. They depart and Eliza makes her way closer to Alexander, weaving her way past the Burrs and Madisons. She is stopped by Angelica.

“We should go,” Angelica tells her quietly, placing a hand on her arm. Eliza nods.

“Okay…I wanted to go talk to Alexand-” Her eyes find Alexander and she snapping her mouth shut, stopping the rest of her response short, seeing that he’s currently talking to Peggy. “Nevermind. Let’s just… wait for Peggy and then we can leave.” 

They walk over to the side of the road, and wait for Peggy to step away from their friend. She meets their eyes, and then leaves Alexander not so long after. By the time that they leave, there are only a few people meandering by the site. All the Jefferson siblings with the exception of one have left, Eliza notes as she looks outside the window of Angelica’s car.

She sees Alexander standing alone for a minute before she spots James Madison walking up to him. Then her view of her friends are obscured by the trees surrounding the area.

The car ride back to their apartment is quiet. No one dares to speak with the heavy blanket of sorrow sucking out all the oxygen in the car. 

—

It is three days after the funeral when Alexander walks through the doors of the office. He walks in looking better than he had at the funeral--there’s less severe bags under his eyes and his skin looks less pale. 

Eliza frowns at the when she sees him. Washington had told him--begged him to take his time coming back and Alexander was a mess then. While Eliza is perplexed, she knows that he would have wanted,  _ needed _ , distraction. He would have come to work even if it killed him. However, the sight of her friend makes her smile. He looks better than he had days ago and for that, Eliza is pleased. 

Alexander buries himself alive in work. He spends too many hours in his office, making up for what he missed in the days he was absent. His office is his sanctuary, just as it is his prison.

He works and writes and calculates financial expenses and holiday bonuses. He works as people working in the building slowly start to withdraw, deciding to spend time with their loved ones. Eliza knows that he’s overdoing it, but she can’t find it in herself to tell him to stop. His work is his lifeline now, and he’s desperate to hold on to it. 

As the days pass, Eliza sees Alexander change. 

When he was once loud, he now is quiet. He doesn’t speak his mind like he did just a mere few weeks ago. There are times when he would open his mouth and then glance around the room, eyes glinting and searching for something-- _ someone-- _ with a response hanging on the tip of his tongue. And then, when he doesn't find what he’s looking for, glint dies and he’d remain mute. He would offer his input at the times he was supposed to rather than firing off a response when the speaker had said something that he flat out disagreed with. 

He works long hours and doesn’t ever seem to go back to his apartment. Once, when she visited his office, she saw his desk littered with coffee mugs--a once normal occurrence now unusual, as Thomas had always taken the mugs back to their apartment to wash--and several sets of clothing hiding in the corner. The thought flashes back to her and she wonders if he ever goes home. 

Of course, there are times when she has attempted to check on him, but she never got far in the task. When she isn’t dealing with some office issue and can spare the time to visit Alexander, he’s either busy with a meeting or holding the attentions of another individual.

—

_ Tuesday morning is quiet and Eliza decides to wander through the building. She wasn’t working but if anyone asked, she could say that she was checking the workplace dynamic and making sure that the company was working at top efficiency with as little conflict as possible. A lot like those “surprise” drop-ins that principals or board members liked to do at schools. _

_ She walks down the various hallways to Alexander’s office, heels clicking softly on the black laminate floors. As she rounds the last corner, she hears yelling coming from his door. It’s open, which is weird since she hasn’t seen it open in a great amount of time but perhaps that’s on the account that he’s been absent for almost every day before. Surprised at the sight, she stops and stands on the far side in the middle of the hallway, listening to pieces of their conversation echo slightly in the empty hall. _

_ “You need to go home. I told you to take your time. Come on, please, son. You need to take a break.” _

_ Eliza knows who the speaker is as soon as she hears the booming voice of her boss, George Washington. However, she is unfamiliar with the tone of his voice and despite the many dinners he and his family had spent with her own, she has never heard the man plead with anyone. Nor did she ever expect to.  _

_ “No. I’m not going home. You know I have to finish calculating these figures!”  _

_ “But son--”  _

_ “Just leave, Dad.” _

_ Eliza’s brow quirks up in a slight arch, and she suppresses a smile. She had known that they were always close but she had never heard her friend call Washington that particular title, and to hear Alexander use that title for him was endearing despite the context it was used in.  _

_ “Alexander... You must see this insanity!” _

_ “No. Now get out before I have to push you out the door,” Alexander finishes coldly and while Eliza can’t see him, she imagines that he’s folding his arms.  _

_ “Alright, Alexander… take care of yourself, son,” Washington responds and steps out the door. He wears a weary and sad expression that he doesn’t bother masking when he sees Eliza standing in the hallway. “Maybe don’t visit him. He’s  _ busy _.”  _

_ Eliza bites her lip in a visible attempt to fight the smile about how her boss just used air quotes around ‘busy’ and nods. _

_ “Yes, sir.”  _

—

_ Thursday morning is usually awful. The stupid Friday Jr. jokes just make Eliza wish it was Friday already--or even better, the weekend. Eliza walks through the door, the perfect image of poised and alert (though internally she’s exhausted and ready to just turn around, walk back out the doors, and spend the day hiding at Maria’s apartment watching movies).  _

_ Through the fog of her limited consciousness, she can hear rapid footsteps coming from down the hall and some angry shouting from a familiar voice. _

_ “Don’t be stupid, Lee! For once in your life, make a good decision and don’t-” Alexander quiets down as he walks into the main lobby, whispering something aggressively into Lee’s face.  _

_ “Shut up Hamilton. You know nothing!” _

_ “No.  _ You _ know nothing,” Alexander says louder, voice echoing around the room. Eliza doesn’t really move from in front of the door, taking a few slow steps towards the elevator. From where she’s standing, Eliza can see that Alexander is looking around the room, resembling a trapped animal without an escape.  _

_ His eyes are wild, darting around the room looking for someone. He looks behind him, then to the doors, and then around the lobby. He’s looking for something, yet his eyes are unseeing.  _

_ Eliza comes to the heart-wrenching conclusion that he’s looking for Thomas. The idea sparking in her mind, she notices the exact second Alexander gives up on his search. His shoulders slump and his head drops to the floor. Though she can’t hear what he says, the passion and the fight in his words are gone.  _

_ Lee spits out something nasty as Alexander turns around and sprints down the hallway.  _

_ — _

_ Friday afternoons are either extremely crazy or extremely quiet. It is like that, without fail, no matter what time of the year it is or whatever press storm brewing outside. Today just happens to be one where she is fortunate and has nothing to do. There are emails that she could look at, but knowing how Thanksgiving is in less than a week, they’re probably about how the IT department is throwing a party on Wednesday for the dwindling crowd. _

_ Knowing how those things can get crazy, she should probably get on top of them, but at the same time, she knows that there’s only a few people still working now--for whatever reason, more people were taking days off sooner--and they wouldn’t dare bring alcohol onto the premises. Well, hopefully they wouldn’t, because that’s another kind of issue that she doesn’t want to deal with.  _

_ Besides, she really wanted to visit Alexander; she was hoping that she’d have the chance to actually talk to him. Walking the familiar path to his office, she sees a few of her colleagues leaving early and she exchanges a few pleasantries with them, wishing them either a happy thanksgiving, good weekends, or both.  _

_ Something--a feeling she didn’t even know about--drops in the pit of her stomach, crushing the lightness in her step and making the world seem a little less bright, when she sees the door to Alexander’s office closed. However, for a brief moment, she thinks that he has gone home and is grateful. Then she sees light leaking out from under the door and hears his voice.  _

_ “No. I’m not going to… I have work to do… well dammit, James! I don’t know what you should say… I- I’m not going…” _

_ Eliza sighs as she stops herself a few feet short of the door. Alexander doesn’t sound in the mood to talk to anyone and she won’t bother him with her presence. She blinks hard, straightens her spine and walks away, trying to leave her disappointment at the door.  _

—

With no emails to respond to and her schedule clear--an odd occurrence with the upcoming holiday only two days away because there was always some HR problem around this time of year, Eliza walks up to Alexander’s office with the intention of checking on him. The door is closed shut when she arrives and Eliza reaches for the handle, the cold metal a contrast to the warmth of her palm. When she tries to open the door, the handle doesn’t move--locked. 

Light creeps under the door and Eliza knocks softly.

“Alexander? You in there?” she asks. While there is no response, she hears a  _ bang _ and some shuffling before the door opens in front of her. Standing with a tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes (which are accented by his signature dark circles), is Alexander. He looks… normal. His shirt is slightly wrinkled from sitting down at his desk all day and he has a steaming mug of coffee in hand.

“Hey Eiza. Did Washin- Oh… Do you need anything? Anything the Director of HR need from me?” Alexander says, eyes scanning her. 

“No. But I’m allowed to visit my friends right?” Eliza forces her voice to remain light and cheerful. 

“Yeah…” he responds weakly. Eliza looks over his shoulder and tilts her head, curiously peering into the office. His desk is neat with stacks of manila folders and his open laptop sitting atop it. “Well,” Alexander says abruptly. “I have a report due in about twenty minutes. It’s important and came up last minute and I really need to get back on that…” 

Eliza blinks. In the past, he had always made time for her, but now was a different story. Brushing away the sting of his dismissal, she hurries to amend herself. “Oh! I’m so sorry for keeping you… It was good to see you.” 

“It was nice to see you too, Betsy,” Alexander says, giving her a quick sideways hug before closing the door behind him. The door shuts in her face and she sighs. 

Perhaps he was just actually busy. Maybe he wasn’t. Regardless, Eliza lets him go hole himself in his office. He just needs more time and she’ll let him have it. Even if it kills her to do so. Pressing her lips together she turns away, gripping her coat tightly around her. 

Unknown to her, Alexander is leaning up against the door, eyes catching on the picture frame laying on his desk containing a picture of himself and Thomas a year ago, from that very day, in Virginia, that went completely unnoticed by Eliza. 

—

Thanksgiving. A day that should be spent with family (or friends that are so close they very well may be). A time where good food can be enjoyed and stories are told. Laughter echos around the room, and the warmth that comes with the presence of many bodies in a space too small and  _ love _ can be felt--a fiery inferno burning brightly in the hearts of everyone.

A tradition the Schuyler family had had since Eliza was since she was four years old was to make a card for everyone explaining how thankful the giver was to have the recipient in their life. Granted, their cards had changed drastically from almost three decades ago, but she had always appreciated the sentiment and received a great amount of joy from giving and getting cards.

Eliza had--since she had been working for Washington--kept her cards hidden away in her desk. She had never wanted for her sisters, namely Angelica, to find them and they were always particularly nosy. It was an added plus that her office had a lock that only she had the key to. 

She had always grabbed them the Wednesday--the day before Thanksgiving--but this year she had forgotten. Normally, she wouldn’t have but she was human and was allowed to make mistakes every so often. Eliza had been able to sneak away early that morning, her sisters still asleep in their beds, and had taken their car to the office before she would swing by the bakery and pretend as if that was all she had done. 

She had entered the building with her key and walked quickly to her desk, where the cards were hidden in the top drawer. Eliza pulled open the drawer, grabbed the cards, closed the drawer, and turned to walk away before she heard a loud shout come from down the hall. 

Interest peaked, she wandered to the site of the sound, taking a few right turns down various hallways before stumbling upon Alexander’s office. The door is ajar and inside, Alexander sits at his desk, frantically typing something on his laptop. The keys clack loudly at an insane speed.

“What are you doing?” Eliza asks, breaking Alexander’s concentration. His head shoots up, eyes darting to her person. 

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing here so early? On Thanksgiving? Why aren’t you at home? _ Did you even go home _ ?” Eliza asks, question after question falling off of her lips. 

“I… I have work to do. You know this. As the heir to this company, I have to work… Adams, Arnold, Lee, and Monroe? They all hate- Wait no, they all  _ despise _ me and they have a rather large sway on our investors. I have to prove it to them that I am capable as the future of this company. I need their approval and if working all night and today shows that I am dedicated to the future of this company, then so be it,” Alexander says in a monotone, eyes flicking between her and his screen. 

“No you don’t!” Eliza interjects, tone bordering on incredulous. “You should be home. And with your family!”

Alexander’s eyes flash up to her’s. “I don’t have a family. My family is dead. My mother’s dead. John is dead. And now…” Alexander takes a long breath, trying to maintain some illusion of composure. “Now, Thomas is dead. The apartment isn’t home without him.”

“Oh Alex--”

He continues on as if she never even spoke. “I can’t walk in through my front door without seeing him. He is everywhere. I can hear him, smell him, see him in every part of the home we built together. And now I don’t even get to share it with him. You said to go home… to spend time with family. Well, I can’t.”

“My family--” Eliza starts to say before being interrupted.

“Is just your family and that’s how it's always been. You spend the day with each other and no one else. That’s how it’s always been,” he deadpans and Eliza’s fingers clench a little tighter on the paper envelopes. She continues on,

“Well the Madisons would--”

“They’re out of town visiting Dolley’s family.”

“What about the Washingtons?”

“Jack and Patsy are visiting with their families. I wouldn’t interrupt their reunion… it's been months since they last saw their kids. I’m by myself this year. I’ll be okay...”

“No! You’re not okay Alexander! This isn’t okay!” 

“So what if I’m not? It’s not like you’ve ever lost anyone!” Alexander yells, cheeks reddening with his outburst. Eliza swallows down the lump starting to grow in her throat. “Imagine losing one of your sisters. Wait, no, imagine losing Maria! You love her don’t you?”

Something in Eliza’s heart constricts. The thought of losing Maria, her fiancée and the person who’s going to be her wife in a little less than four months, whom she loves more than her own life doesn’t even pale in comparison to heartbreak. “Yes. But I--”

“But what?! You couldn’t possibly understand! You don’t get to understand!” he screams, eyes watering.

_ Finally… he’s showing some kind of emotion?  _ Eliza thinks as words tumble out of her mouth. “Then tell me, Alexander!” 

He opens his mouth then closes it a second later. He does it again but no words come out. The agitation that once sparkled faintly in his eyes is gone, leaving blank slates in its stead. 

“You know… I was going to propose to him,” Alexander says tiredly, leaning forward. His elbows rest on his knees and his hands are folded together in front of him.

Eliza’s mouth falls open. “Oh my… When?”

“I dunno… I almost bought a ring when I was in New York. I almost,” he cuts himself off with a heavy sigh and shakes his head, as if he were trying to rid himself of the idea. “Well anyway, I didn’t. Mostly ’cuz nothing was special enough for... But I remember looking for so long and never finding anything so... I didn’t. God, I missed him so much. He never left my thoughts when we were apart. Never… And, to be truthful? I’ve never stopped thinking about him. Never stopped waiting for him to come home to me and…. and he’s never coming home.”

His eyes have the glassy sheen of tears that threaten to spill downward and Alexander looks up at the ceiling, staring up at it as if it had all the answers written there. The tears that had built up in the corner of his eyes spill downward on the sides of his face. At the sight of her friend, Eliza’s heart breaks a little more, feeling an echo of his sadness. 

She moves to hug him but stops as he visibly tenses, stiffening and looking as if a small touch, an action of comfort, would be his very undoing. “I’m so sorry Alexander… I know Thomas would have loved whatever you would have got him. It would have been from you and that would be enough.”

“Yeah… Well, he deserved better than whatever I could’ve,” he sighs and reaches into his shirt. He pulls out a silver chain. On it is a ring. Eliza gasps and covers her mouth with the hand not holding the envelopes. 

“Oh…” Eliza chokes out, eyes wide with shock. 

His face, which had remained mostly expressionless through most of their conversation, was now crumbling: tears streamed down his cheeks or into his hair, his lips were pressed tightly together, as if they were keeping his emotions bottled inside him, and his brow was furrowed, wrinkled under the stress of keeping his composure. 

“Thomas was going to propose. He was going to propose too…” Alexander’s voice waivers and he sucks in a breath. Eliza finds herself transfixed on the object around his neck and watches as his hand finds itself to the ring and makes a fist around it. He hunches in on himself, shoulders caving. “I dunno when. But I… I would have said yes. I would’ve! I would’ve in a heartbeat. In less than that, even.” 

He laughs humorlessly and adds flatly,“I guess I’ll never know what I would’ve done then. Funny thing is… I know what he would’ve. He would’ve proposed in the middle of a street outside of a nice restaurant because he wouldn’t have wanted a large audience and would have gotten too nervous to do it there even if he intended to.

“He either would’ve said everything he wanted to perfectly because he’d rehearsed it a million times or he would try to get through whatever he’d planned on saying… but, despite his practice, he’d be so flustered and stumbling over his words that he’d just hand me the letter he wrote--yeah... there’s a letter--and he’d wait on his knee, looking up at me as if…  _ as if I were the world _ . He’d look up at me while biting his lip. I think he’d be holding back a smile? 

“When I would respond or nod or something--honestly I’d be talking because when am I not?--he’d jump off the ground and to his feet and crush me into his obnoxiously tall self or just kiss me. And then he’d slide the ring onto my finger and… and everything would be a mess but… but it would be perfect and I’d love every single second of it,” Alexander finishes with a wistful note, eyes gone soft with sadness and brimming with tears and love as he reminisces of a moment that never happened--that never ever will happen; longing for a moment where he could have had such a time. 

Eliza’s lip trembles, biting back the barrage of feelings that are beginning to overwhelm her senses. She doesn’t know how to name half of the emotions that are hitting her. Clenching the envelopes tightly in between her fingers--though not tightly enough to crease them--she walks toward her best friend, who is slumped over in his seat. 

She tilts his head up, forcing him to look at her. He reluctantly moves his head up and makes eye contact. His face is streaked with tears and his hair is plastered to the sides of his face. The bags under his eyes are dark purple in some places and secretly, Eliza wonders how she didn’t see them before realizing that he must have used makeup to cover it up. 

The look in his eyes twists a dagger in her already bleeding heart. There’s something shattered about the way he looks up at her. Perhaps it was the glint of hopelessness that she’d never seen before and his irises remind Eliza of broken glass, refracting a million emotions but not a single one is clear. 

“Oh Alex…” Eliza says, slightly strangled, and he looks down and away from her face as he leans into her touch. She leans down and wraps her arms around him tightly. 

Alexander melts into the embrace, burying his face into her shoulder and his body going limp as he lets himself be hugged. Over the quiet hum of his laptop, Eliza can hear his gut-wrenching sobs ring in her ears as he shakes in her arms. She can’t feel moisture seeping in through the fabric of her coat--which is good because it was meant to withstand heavy rainfall, but if she could, she knew that there would be a considerably large spot staining the area a little to the left of the center.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, a gentle lilt over the sound of his sobs. Alexander hiccups and then stills in her arms. 

“Sorry won’t bring him back…” he mumbles in her coat, so quiet that she hardly even hears it. She closes her eyes, resting her head against her friend’s. He’s right. “I wish everyone would stop telling me that they’re sorry. Sorry for what? They didn’t kill Thomas… It’s nobody's fault.”

Eliza bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from apologizing for  _ apologizing _ . She hums in response and the room goes quiet again, with the exception of Alexander’s cries. 

Eventually, he moves away from her, sitting back in his chair defeated. He turns his eyes-- which are irritated and puffy--up to Eliza and keeps them focused on her as he brings out a stack of papers from his second desk drawer. 

The paper looks pristine, lines of elegant script perfectly straight on the blank page. The pages are creased in a few places, two of them being from where they were folded and the others from where the page was held. 

“Here,” Alexander says, placing them on his desk, not looking at the paper or Eliza. She glances between her friend and the paper stack. 

_ ‘My dearest Alexander,’ _ The page reads and Eliza forces herself to look away. Unfortunately from the quick glance of the page, she can also discern a few words and phrases. 

‘... _ to be my  _ husband _ for the rest of my days.. hand in marriage…hit with a chair, I still… adore… Every part of you… I love your…’ _

Eliza sucks in a breath and looks out the window behind Alexander. The sun is still low in the sky, casting a faint pink and orange light on the clouds, lightening the sky. 

“No. I won’t read it,” she says, not looking at him. ‘ _ I’ve already read too much.’  _

“Wh… Why not? What if I wanted you to read it?” Alexander sounds perplexed, as if he cannot understand why she wouldn’t want to read it. Secretly, Eliza  _ wants _ to read the letter. However, she also knows that whatever Thomas wrote in the letter was meant for Alexander and only Alexander. 

“ _ No _ ,” Eliza reiterates and Alexander stands up abruptly. The chain around his neck swings back and forth and Eliza can see that on the inside of the band is an engraving. Despite not being able to read it, she knows that whatever is inscribed there resonates with Alexander in a way she could never understand. 

“Please? I… I need someone to read it. You would be the third person to know about the letter at all--unless James told Dolley, which is highly probable. But… still… I need someone to actually read it,” he whispers. “I think I may lose my mind… because I swear the words written there are just a… a figment of my imagination.  _ Please... _ Read it for me.” He carefully picks up the paper and holds them out to her for her to take. 

Eliza hesitates, wanting to say no because she  _ shouldn’t _ read the letter--something intimate between only Thomas and Alexander, but she finds herself taking them in hand, setting her own letters down on his desk. 

As she reads, she can feel Alexander’s eyes on her, watching her intently. Eliza does her best to clamp down on her feelings before they can show on her face--fighting back a laugh, or bittersweet smile, or tears--not wanting Alexander to know how much it pains her to read, words of absolute devotion and love written plainly. 

When she finishes, she doesn’t look at Alexander. She simply places the letter back on to his desk gingerly and bites back the sob that’s building in her throat. Throughout their entire friendship, however short lived it had been, Eliza had always been able to see through Thomas. He wore his emotions like he wore his shoes or fancy coats; they were obnoxious but sincere and genuine. 

Thomas, as Alexander had said so long ago at his funeral, did everything with his all and Eliza could see how much that Thomas had adored Alexander. It hurt to read something of such passion with the knowledge that her best friend would never get the happiness that should have followed after reading the same letter at a different time. If only he had the luxury of time...

“I know that you don’t want apologies,” Eliza begins, her voice shaky and uneven. “But know that Thomas loved you so  _ damned _ much and I am sorry that you can’t--” Her voice brakes and a tear falls down her cheek. Alexander nods numbly, his face void of emotion.

“Do you know… Do you know how much it killed me to get that letter… and the ring. Dammit that ring… from James? From Thomas’ best friend, and not Thomas himself,” his is flat but rises in pitch towards the end. “I have never wanted to die more. Never. Not even on that forsaken island or when the hurricane took everything from me… I wish. Well, I wish a lot of things. I wish that I had more time. I wish that he never died--that he never died  _ alone. _ But mostly… I wish that we were together. I wish that we could both be dead or both be alive. 

“Sometimes, it’s so hard to get up in the mornings. To wake up cold and to an empty bed. To wake up and not have the person who--to not have  _ your _ person there. And sometimes I just… I don’t want to live because it feels as if there’s nothing worth living for anymore. I--” Alexander, who sounds absolutely exhausted, is interrupted by Eliza.

“That’s not true! There is so--”

“I know!” Alexander yells and despite his volume, he shows the same mild indifference that he has been since their conversation started. “I know… that’s just how I feel right now, okay? I’m not… I’m not gonna do anything. Because I know that Thomas would never forgive me if I left this world earlier than I was supposed to.

“It feels like hell. Or like I’m in my own personal hell. I can’t go home because my home was Thomas,  _ not _ the damn building. And he’s gone forever, or at least… for now,” he sighs and rubs his eyes. “And… the thing that hurts me the most?! Aside from his absence, it's the way I said goodbye.”

Eliza’s eyes widen in surprise, because of course he’d regret that. He had been on a business trip in New York and had probably said everything expected of a normal goodbye. A goodbye eluding to a reunion. A goodbye that was not so much of a goodbye, but more of a “until I see you again.” A goodbye that didn’t really mean goodbye...Her heart plummets to her stomach as she makes the realization, feeling ill.

“Oh… oh my God,” she whispers in her shock. Her body feels tingly, acutely aware of the draft of hot air coming from the vents above, the smooth fabric of her jacket, and the hum of the laptop. 

“If I could do it again, I would’ve phrased things differently. Hell, I wouldn’t have even gone to New York.” His eyes are unfocused, staring out into space. “I just… I don’t know.”

And then, as if nothing happened, as if he had not just sobbed or confessed and displayed his broken heart and soul, Alexander sat up in his chair, pushed the letter into the drawer he’d taken them out of, and looked up at her, donning a mask of indifference.

“Okay… well obviously you have somewhere to be and I have work to do. Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy your time with your family and I’ll see you on Monday,” Alexander says in his professional voice— the one that he uses when speaking to the board and in press conferences. Eliza shudders, a worried expression slowly being plastered to her face, and grabs her letters off his desk. 

“I’ll see you Monday. Take care of yourself,” Eliza responds, turning to the door. He offers no response as she continues to walk out of his office and Eliza sighs. Her heart is heavy and mind storming with a million and one questions. Despite them, she leaves without answers. He wouldn’t answer them anyway and maybe, it was just easier to leave him to his solitude.

He was different now. When they had first met, he had been a charming and fiery young man trying to claw his way to the top of the world, making it a better place as he went. When he had met Thomas, he became calmer and less rash while still having the same passion. Now? Now Eliza wasn’t sure. Alexander had suffered through many terrible losses but never once did he act like this: a hollowed out shell of the man she had befriended so long ago. With his passion and spark in his eye lost she was scared.

The thought that he could be this version of himself forever--it did more than just strike fear in her heart; it also brought pain and worry. She loved Alexander and didn’t know what she would do if he stayed this way forever… How much longer would she have to wait before she saw Alexander’s fire burn once more? How much longer before the embers in his eyes turned to ashes?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Come visit me on [Tumblr](https://bladesnflannel.tumblr.com/) and let me know what you thought!  
> -J


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